


Newsprint, Piano, and Coffee

by aintweproudriff



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Coffee, M/M, david does newspaper, newspaper, projecting??? me??? unheard of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:37:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aintweproudriff/pseuds/aintweproudriff
Summary: David is a reporter for the school newspaper, and is working on a story about the school's open mic night. A talented performer catches his eye, and he just has to grab an interview with him.





	1. Coffee is Essential in Planning an Article

**Author's Note:**

> i don't think i have any only jack/davey fics and based on the fact that im javidblue, that's a crime. so, despite the fact that ive got a prompt in my inbox waiting to be filled, here you go.

David remembered being a little kid, one who liked to hold his mom’s purse and sit in the driver’s seat of her car when she wasn’t looking, one who liked to pretend he was an adult, even when he was the furthest thing from one. He remembered being a little kid, and now that he was almost an adult, he’d like to tell his younger self that it wasn’t what he thought it’d be. Sometimes, though, on nights like tonight, it came with all the power he’d always wanted. 

He pulled up the parking brake, clicked off the headlights, and turned his engine off. Throwing his keys into his bag - fine, it was a purse, he wasn’t too much of a “man” to call it what it was - he opened the door and stepped out into the dry, chilly air.  
The way his high school looked at night had always made him happy. Right now, at the beginning of fall, it was particularly beautiful. The old bricks, cracked concrete, and lampposts that glowed yellow made the school seem strangely homelike. To anyone else, this probably looked ugly. But David knew that in a few years, he’d be missing this place; that was one of the bad parts about being an almost-adult. So if right now, it felt like home to him, then he could smile and find the beauty in it. 

He thought about these things as he walked across the parking lot, the floodlights on the street lamps illuminating his shadows in three different directions. Feeling happy, powerful even, David pulled on the cold metal bar attached to the door that led to the auditorium building. 

Stepping inside, every part of the atmosphere shifted. Suddenly, it was so warm he felt like someone had snuck up behind him and thrown a blanket over his head. There were people running back and forth all over the place, preparing for their performances at tonight’s open mic night. The yellow florescent lights directly contrasted the darkness and white of outside, and David smiled at the thought. He loved this; being outside of himself, observing only what was going on around him. 

“Dave!” called a voice from across the auditorium lobby, snapping him out of his depersonalized trance. David looked up to find a head of shaggy brown hair that only barely hid a smile. Waving hello to his friend, David walked over. 

“Hey, Crutchie,” David was half-offered, haff-forced into a hug. Crutchie was surrounded with people, as per his usual. The kid had friends in every corner of the school, and made a point of talking to as many of them as he could in one day. But Crutchie was really in his element here, in the theater, laughing louder than any of the other drama kids.  
This was not David’s scene, however, and Crutchie knew that. The second David looked a little bit uncomfortable, Crutchie put his hand on his shoulder and began talking to him, instead of all the other kids. 

“It’s gonna start soon, do you wanna grab some cookies or coffee?” Crutchie led David to the table full of food, and David poured himself a cup of what must have been the weakest coffee ever. They talked and laughed on their way to the seats, quieting as the lights went down in the house, and came up on the stage. 

-

“Hello, students!” Miss Larkin really didn’t need a microphone, but she spoke into one anyway. “Welcome to the first open mic night of the year! As usual, I’m up here to get you going, but we also have a student MC tonight!” Miss Larkin’s voice became like that of an old-time radio presenter. “For the first time ever hosting an open mic night; you know him and if you know him you love him: here’s Mush Meyers!” 

David laughed and cheered. No, he didn’t know Mush very well, but he’d been in a few of David’s classes. And he seemed like a smart kid, nice enough. Freaking adorable, too. Not that you ever would have heard David say that outloud, mostly for fear of Mush’s boyfriend and Mush’s boyfriend’s friends. 

Mush walked on stage, his hands tugging at the hems of his shirt. 

“Hey, guys, uh,” David could see Mush trying to act confident. “How’s it goin’?”

The crowd cheered and clapped. This was what David loved about open mic nights. The rest of the school was mean to anyone and everyone it could get its hands on. But not here; here you could sing like a squealing tire and the people would tell you how great you sounded. David could see the headline on the article he would write about this: “Adorable Host Cheered on by Kindest Crowd Ever.”

“Awesome, awesome! I’m glad you’re feelin’ good. This is my first time hosting, so uh,” he nervously ran his hand through his hair, “forgive me if I’m not quite the MC you remember.”

“You’re doin’ good babe!” a voice from the front row shouted. 

Mush chuckled. “Thanks, Blink. So let’s get this started, yeah?” he held his hands out, and the crowd cheered. “First up, we have our very own Specs, performing a dance they choreographed! Give it up for Specs, everyone!”

David made sure to take mental notes as performer after performer got on and off the stage. Really, he had to note that no one was bad. When he’d gone to these before, there had always been a few people who performed something that, to be kind, wasn’t their strongest talent. With a shudder, he recalled the boy who performed a rap that he wrote to ask out some girl he liked. He never specified if it worked or not, but David knew for a fact that he was very single. Apparently, the rap didn’t work with the ladies and it didn’t work on stage. 

And that was why David would never get on that stage. It wasn’t that he was afraid of being laughed at or was frightened of being in front of people: David knew where his strengths were. He could write an incredible article for the newspaper in less than fifty minutes, and he had gotten the highest grades on essays for almost three years running. He’d stick to what he knew, thank you very much. 

-

The lights went up for intermission, and David and Crutchie walked out. Once again, David was pushed somewhat to the side so that Crutchie could talk to Mush, reassuring him that he was doing a fantastic job. 

“The energy at the coffeehouse felt electric. Everyone helped each other, keeping spirits high and performances at their peak,” David planned what he’d say in his article as he stood with his back against a brick wall. 

Crutchie had moved across the room, and he looked back to David, shooting his a thumbs up and an eyebrow raise. David nodded, grateful. 

He looked around, his mind spinning more words into action. That is, until he remembered what he’d have to do tonight. There were some things he liked about being in the newspaper. He’d met Crutchie there, and he’d learned to write better. However, although he knew that it was making him a better public speaker and conversationalist, he hated interviewing people. It was so awkward to run up to someone and have to introduce yourself in less than a second, and then ask them questions that might have gotten a little too personal. He’d have to find a performer tonight to answer some questions for the article. Hopefully, one of these acts coming up would make him notice someone who might have something of importance to say.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey apparently my struggles with my journalism class are universal. whodda thunk?

The lights went down again just as David sat in his chair. New performers went up, doing everything from poetry to singing and dancing to performing long, romantic skits with someone they were dating. David chuckled to himself at that one, mostly because he recognized the dialogue from a musical he’d seen a long time ago. Romeo and Specs weren’t fooling anyone. 

Performances lasted almost 45 minutes, and in each one, David wondered what kind of quote he might get from each of these people. He wanted this article to be something really impressive, something that would advertise the next open mic night and bring in great attendance. For that, he wanted to get a quote from the best performer. 

Laughter rose from the audience as Race and Albert walked on stage, cheered on loudly by Spot and Elmer in the second row. 

“We had a goldfish,” Race declared dramatically, “who we loved very much. We found him, last week, in a pond by my house. How he came to be in that place, no one knows. But we were grateful he was, because we knew that it was truly fate that brought this goldfish to us.”

“We named him Willie,” Albert picked up from where Race’s script left off, “as in free. And we took perfectly good care of him, and were kind to him at all times. We planned to bring him into school, to have him see what we did here, and to ask Miss Larkin if he could be the drama class’s mascot.”

“Alas!” Race stepped forward. “Willie died, only last night. And that is what brings us here today; the funeral of a fish.”

The screen behind them started to come down, and music began to play; David recognized the song as Amazing Grace, only it was played on a kazoo. Albert began to sing along to Amazing Grace in the background, while Race stepped to the front of the stage and initiated his speech. 

“Willie, you were a good goldfish,” he said. On the screen, a stock image of a goldfish appeared. “You were the best we’d ever known. Why must the good die young? That is, of course, the question we are all facing at this very moment. Why would someone who was so loved, who had so much to do with his life,” the screen changed to reveal an image of the Eiffel Tower, and on the sidewalk below, a poorly cropped stock goldfish, “be taken from us so soon?”

David couldn’t stop himself from laughing out loud. Maybe it was the way Albert was already on the floor, crying through his song, or maybe it was Race’s dramatic speech. Most likely, it was the poorly photoshopped fish, that was now at the Great Wall of China. 

“You were a good goldfish, yes,” Race nodded solemnly, looking around the room. “But, in the end, one truth is shown in the way you lived your life. Truly, none of us are here for a long time. But, we can be here for a good time. Thank you, my friends. And Willie, I hope you have a good time in the fish pond in the sky.”

Albert and Race walked off the stage, as the screen displayed an animation of the goldfish floating upwards, eventually landing so that its head was underneath a halo. 

David cheered and clapped, reaching up to wipe the tear that had fallen from his laughter. He watched as Race and Albert walked back to their boyfriends, who clapped them on their backs and hugged them. He didn’t let himself think about how cute their relationship was. Or at least he didn’t try to. 

“Alright, wasn’t that… something, folks?” Mush asked the crowd, and received a roar in response. He laughed, shaking his head. 

David thought about using this as a detail in his article, but decided that the whole thing might have just been something that someone had to see for themself. It wouldn’t make sense in an article. 

His thought process was interrupted by Mush, announcing the next performer. 

“Here’s a senior that we all look up to. Maybe for different reasons, but we all look up to him. Perhaps you’re one of the many people who are jealous of his musical abilities, or one of the many more jealous of his artistic abilities. Maybe you love his personality, or maybe you love his face. Or, if you’re Spot, you look up to him because he’s over a foot taller than you. It’s most likely that you’re like me, and you look up to him for all of those reasons and more,” Mush laughed, running his hand through his hair again. He was doing that a lot. “Performing an original song, here’s Jack Kelly!”

David’s eyes were immediately drawn to the lanky boy in blue that walked on the stage. For some reason, he walked up the set of stairs to the right of the stage, unlike everyone else who took the left stairs. This forced him to walk all the way across the stage to his piano, where he sat down and played a chord. 

“Hi everyone,” he said confidently. “I’ll take a moment to promote our school musical, which I’m in; if you like this song, or any of the other performances tonight, come see it. If you don’t like this song, or any of the other performances tonight, still some see it.” Jack coughed awkwardly, and a few people chuckled. “Anyway,” he continued, “this is a song I wrote after my most recent break up. I hope you like it.”

He began to play the piano, a fast song in a minor key. He didn’t begin singing for a few seconds, and David found himself wondering if Jack was going to sing at all. 

But then, from the microphone came the most beautiful voice. David would have hit himself for saying it in another place, but tonight he was in a mood that allowed him to dramatize how it sounded. Jack’s voice sounded sweet and smooth, but somehow so raw and real. It sounded like a coffee shop smells: homey and wide awake and creative. David’s coffee from earlier was long gone, but he still clutched the cup. If only Jack’s voice could have refilled it. 

David’s face turned toward Crutchie, who was sat to his right. 

“Wow,” he mouthed, and Crutchie nodded, his eyes wide open. 

David sat in wonder for another verse or so of Jack’s song, before turning back to his friend. “Can you remind me to get a quote from him afterwards? I need one for my article.”

Crutchie nodded, and the song ended much too soon. The crowd burst into clapping and cheers, and David shouted maybe loudest of anyone in the room. 

“Thanks guys,” the pianist laughed. “I’m glad you liked it. Don’t forget to come see the musical!” 

Everyone clapped again as he went offstage, and a few people ran up to him to give him hugs and congratulate him. 

Mush got on the stage again, but David didn’t hear what he said; he was too focused on Crutchie, who had dashed off to talk to Jack. David watched as Crutchie pointed his way, and assumed they were talking about him, so he gave a shy wave. Jack nodded to something Crutchie said, and David smiled. 

“You can quote him,” Crutchie sat down. 

“Thanks, Crutch. You’re the best.”

More acts got up on stage, but David was too busy formulating his questions to pay attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, y’all!” Mush shouted, waiting for his microphone to come back. “That was such an incredible-” Medda ran up onto the stage, carrying too microphones that were violently blaring static. David covered his ears with his hands and cringed, but the sound stopped when Mush took one of the microphones. “That was such an incredible show we saw tonight. Truly a cabaret act, filled with talent. Unfortunately for us, the show is over.”

The crowd, mostly the four or five boys in the front row, booed loudly. 

“I know, I know. Thank you to Spot, Race, and the gang for telling us how they feel. Thank you everyone for attending tonight, thank you for supporting the drama department, and don’t forget to come see the fall musical next month!” 

-

David and Crutchie joined the file of people, all going out one door. David threw his bag over his shoulder, but Crutchie grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to a group of people. 

“David, this is Jack. He’s in the musical, and he has a gorgeous voice. You already knew those last two things,” Crutchie said, not dropping David’s arm. “Jack, this is David. He’s a reporter, and he needs to ask you a few questions for the school newspaper.”

“Uh, yeah, hi,” David managed to say, reaching for his phone in his bag. He pulled it out and flipped to the voice recorder. “Is it okay if I record you? It’s just so I don’t misquote you.” 

“Yeah, sure. You’re just gonna ask me some questions, right?” Jack laughed. For a second, David didn’t quite know how to answer. It was like he didn’t know how to formulate words anymore, but dammit, this was what he was good at. 

“Yeah, yeah. They’ll be really simple, don’t worry,” David laughed, knowing there was no way he could match Jack’s easy coolness. 

“Okay, shoot,” Jack smiled and leaned back against the red brick wall. 

“First of all,” David said, “when are we going to see your music on Spotify or iTunes? That was so good.”

“Thanks, I’m real glad you liked it. I think that was my favorite song I’ve ever written.”

David decided to run with this. “What was it about? Like where was the inspiration?” 

“It was, uh, about a girl I used to date. She was so nice, super beautiful. She’s actually here tonight, and heard me sing that song, which is a little awkward.” Jack leaned closer to David, as if to tell him a secret, and as if he forgot he was being recorded. Oh well, it wasn’t like any of that would go in the article anyway.

“So, uh, the song obviously means a lot to you, huh?” David asked, and Jack nodded. “What did it feel like to get up on stage and be so vulnerable?”

“It was hard. You know, with everyone here, including her, it was real scary to do that. But overall, I think it was good for me. The best part of music and art comes from pain, right? People want somethin’ real, somethin’ honest.”

David paused as a boy came up behind Jack and clapped him on the back, wishing him well and congratulating him. 

“So uh, do you have any big overarching thoughts on how you felt performing tonight?” he asked, hoping to get a decent, basic quote. 

“Yeah, it was really fun. At first I was scared to perform, but then people liked it and I was so happy about that. I love how supportive and kind everyone is here.”

David smiled widely. That was just about perfect. 

“Thanks Jack!” he turned off the voice recorder on his phone. “I’ll let you know when this article is printed, okay?” 

David went home as fast as he could, not even saying goodbye to Crutchie, and got right to work with his writing.   
-

The next day, David’s newest article appeared in the school newspaper. It only took up a small part of the page, but it was on the front page: above the fold. 

-  
Students Take the Stage at First Open Mic Night  
By David Jacobs  
Performing on stage at school is one of the most exciting parts of our culture available to students. One of the ways that people can get in on our performing culture is to put on an act at one several Open Mic Nights throughout the year, all of which allow a great way for any student or teacher to be a part of a larger community.  
The first coffeehouse of the school year took place last night at 6:30 in the auditorium. Students from all grades got up on stage to show off their talents and skills, stunning everyone in attendance with acts included singing, dancing, poetry, and comedy.  
Jack Kelly, 12, was one such performer, who demonstrated his ability to play piano and sing. “It was really fun, I was really scared but then I was really happy,” he said. He added that the best part of the coffeehouse is “how supportive and kind everyone is here.”  
Every act at the coffeehouse last night left the audience in either awe or tears (only from laughter, promise). To come see more impressive performances, come to the next Open Mic Night, which will take place in December!

-

From across the cafeteria, David spotted Jack, who was loudly laughing with his friends over a sandwich. Taking a deep breath, David stood up from his mostly-empty table and pulled the newspaper out of his backpack. He nodded at Crutchie before making his way across the room. It was crowded, and loud, and David thought about going to sit back down. For some reason, though, he kept moving. 

“Hey, Jack,” he placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder and bent over to make eye contact. And just like that, every idea in his head was gone. Had he seen Jack’s eyes last night? Had they been brown last night? Had they been so big last night? 

Jack saved the day by speaking first. “Oh, is this the article you quoted me in? Already?” 

“Uh, yeah, it is,” David stood up straighter, so that Jack could get a good read. 

“Not very long, is it?” Jack asked, turning around to face David; it was like the rest of Jack’s friends weren’t even actually there. “But I guess that’s how it got published so quickly, huh?”

David, not knowing what else to do, just nodded and reached to have the newspaper back. 

“Oh no, hold on,” Jack nudged David’s hand out of the way. “I’m not done.”

Jack fished in his backpack, pulling out a thin black pen. In bold, scrawling font, Jack scribbled seven digits, covering much of the newsprint and photo of the front page story: “Manhattan Pioneers Lose to Rival School”. 

“Here,” Jack handed it back to David. “Text me sometime, let’s hang out.” 

David’s heart stopped. “Uh, I’m-”

“Oh my god dude,” Jack reeled back. “Crutchie said you were gay, and I just figured I’d go for it, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, I’m gay,” David shook his head quickly and then spoke solemnly. “I just didn’t expect for, uh, you know what? I’ll text you.”

David rubbed his thumb against the last page of the paper, and speed-walked back over to Crutchie. As he sat down, he showed his friend the phone number on the page. 

“Yeah, he thinks you’re real cute,” Crutchie nodded and took a sip from his water bottle. “Gonna text him?”

David didn’t answer, just smiled and put the newspaper back in the folder he had grabbed it from.


	4. Dinky Diners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im literally uploading over 2000 words of fic in one day, on two separate fics. go me.

The backing of the bright red, fake leather booth was cold against David’s back, as he sat down. Why had Jack asked to meet here, in a dinky little 50s style diner? Really, the place was nothing special. But even Davey had to admit that the place had its own charm, even if the charm was not his taste. 

He sipped on a glass of water, trying to calm his nerves, and cool his clammy, hot hands. His lips pursed, and he glued his fingers to his palms, trying to keep them from tapping on the table. Pulling out his phone and seeing a blank screen, David resigned himself to looking around the diner once more, searching for a head of dark hair. 

Funnily enough, he didn’t see the face he was looking for until it sat down in the booth across from him. 

“Hey,” Jack said softly, “glad to see you.”

David, slightly startled, did his best to breathe slowly and smile. “You too. Thanks for, uh, inviting me out.”

“Yeah, sure thing. I’m pretty happy I got a chance to, I’d been wantin’ to get to know you better for a while.”

“What?” David chuckled, flipping open his menu. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, well. I’d seen you hangin’ out with Crutchie, and some of the kids in drama knew you, and I’d seen you around in general,” Jack stopped looking through his menu to glance up at David. “You’re pretty cute, you know that?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. I’m dead serious,” Jack laughed, but his voice was sincere. 

David paused for a second, biting his tongue. Breathing deeply, he tried not to laugh out loud. “That’s really sweet of you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the truth,” Jack skimmed the menu, nodding. “But I feel like I know nothin’ about you actually. So I’m glad you came and interviewed me, so I could get a chance to talk to you. Start to know you as more than ‘the cute kid.’”

“Heh. If I’d have known, maybe I would have talked to you sooner.”

“I wish you had,” Jack smiled widely. “But that doesn’t matter so much, ‘cause you’re talkin’ to me now!”

David nodded, laughing a little bit and praying he wasn’t blushing. 

“So,” continued Jack, “talk to me. Tell me about Davey Jacobs.”

“Well, that’s not my name. That’s the first little fun fact you may not have known,” David grinned, and Jack laughed, leaning back in his seat and finally closing the menu. 

“Yeah, no, I know. But isn’t Davey a good name?”

David deadpanned at Jack and held the face as long as he could. Something about Jack’s lopsided grin, though, made it impossible to not smile back. 

“If you say so,” his shoulders shook as he leaned forward. 

The waitress showed up and the two of them placed their orders: two cheeseburgers, two orders of fries, and two sodas. When she left, Jack folded his hands and rested them on the table. 

“You didn’t tell me about yourself yet.”

“What do you want to know?” Davey asked, shaking his head and mimicking Jack’s position. 

“Well, uh, you’re in newspaper, right?” Jack sat up straighter. “Tell me about that.”

“Okay,” David took a gulp of his water. “I’ve taken it for three years; I started in freshman year and I’m not going to quit. I really want to do eight consecutive semesters of newspaper, because I really do love it. Originally, I took it because I just wanted an easy class, one where I knew I could be creative. Kind of a nice break from the day-to-day, right?”

David paused, saw that Jack was nodding and paying attention, and kept talking.

“But I started to really love it. All at once, I’m at the front of every event I want to see in the school, every cool thing happening. But at the same time, I’m never really seen. Like at the open mic night. I was there, taking notes, and I saw the thick of it. But no one really noticed me, you know? And uh, I think that since I’ve been working so hard for so long, there’s a maybe semi-decent chance I’ll be editor in chief in senior year.”

Jack’s smile followed Davey’s moving hands. 

“That’s awesome, Davey,” he said, as the waitress returned and placed food and sodas on the table. “Really, that’s so cool. When did you start writing?”

“Oh, god. I’ve been writing forever. When I was little I used to - this is the worst thing - write stories, just little ones, and type them up and print them out and illustrate them, and then give them to my relatives for holidays. They’ve still got them, I know. Stories about fairies and monsters and stuff. But I’ve always loved reading and writing,” David smiled widely, laughing at himself for telling something so silly to Jack. 

The two of them were silent for a moment, both taking bites of their food and sipping on their sodas through their straws.

“What about you, though?” David asked, realizing how rude he must have seemed. “When did you get into music?”

“Oh,” Jack laughed breathily and nodded. “When I, uh, got into one of my foster homes, which was actually my last foster home, because she adopted me. My mom - Miss Larkin, you know her - she put me into all these music and art classes. I was like eight. But she thought that I might need a way to ‘creatively express’ myself, especially after being in foster care for so long. She did that to my other brothers too, Spot and Romeo. But Romeo preferred acting and Spot preferred sports. I stuck with the music and art, and I really fell in love with it. Hopefully I could do somethin’ with those for a career.”

“Wow. That’s so cool. What’s, uh, what’s the first instrument you learned?” David took another bite of his burger as Jack answered. 

“Piano. That was the first lesson I took, actually. Before the art, or any of the other instruments. Actually, most places won’t let you take lessons with them unless you play piano already,” Jack’s voice sounded nostalgic. “But I love piano. Somethin’ about it is so beautiful.”

“Yeah, especially when you play it,” Davey didn’t stop himself before he said it, and he thought he might regret saying it once he realized the words were being said, but Jack’s face lit up, and Davey wanted to make it do that again.

“Oh,” Jack’s eyes grew a size, and he leaned forward, blushing and laughing. “Thanks,” he ran a hand through his hair.

“You’ve got a lot of talent,” David nodded his head vigorously. “I was so blown away by your performance, honestly.”

“Thanks, Davey. But uh, I think it comes down to how much I practiced. Literally, that’s eight years of practicing piano.”

David cocked his head to the side, unsure. “I don’t know about that. I mean, I’ve tried to play piano, but it was like no matter how long I practiced, I could never get the hold of it. I always wished I could play, but I couldn’t get it.”

“Well,” Jack popped a french fry in his mouth. “If you wanted, I could probably, uh, teach you how to play some stuff.”

“Really?”

“For sure,” Jack smiled. “I mean, it’d only be some pretty basic stuff, if you can’t read music. But, uh, there’s ways to learn piano and not read music.”

Jack’s eyes, for the first time so far, seemed unconfident. 

“That would be awesome, Jack. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! I like it more than the other chapters so far, I think. Let me know what you tought!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who's that character in spring awakening that's in love with his piano teacher?

Jack’s house was a lot bigger than Davey expected. He supposed that, with three kids living it who always had their friends over and something happening, it probably had to be big. But then again, his family had three kids and there was no way they could have had a house with a room specifically for the piano.   
The room had a huge window, looking out over the front yard, and one couch on the other side of the room. It seemed that someone, probably Jack, had insisted there be somewhere for people to sit and listen while he played. But neither of the boys sat on the couch now; instead both of them sat on the small wooden piano bench while Jack plunked out a simple tune. 

“So am I just supposed to-” Davey put his hands on the keys, ready to emulate what Jack had done. 

“Hm? Oh, no. We’re going to see first if,” Jack leaned over, grunting as he reaching for a box underneath the piano bench, “you still read music at all.”

David blinked. “I’m pretty sure I don’t, so-”

“No, no,” Jack pulled out a small flimsy book. The title read “Basic Piano for Beginners”. “Let’s just see how you do. Give it your absolute best shot, okay?”

“Fine, but if I can’t do it, which I can’t,” Davey smiled pointedly, “we’re switching the angle at which we do this.”

“Sounds like a deal.”

Jack opened the book, flipping to a random page. Lifting it up and setting it on the stand, he glanced over the notes for a moment, then placed his hands on the keys. It looked so simple when Jack kept his focus on the page and then let his fingers move the way they were supposed to. 

“There,” he said when he was done, passing the book over to David, “that’s how it sounds. Your turn.”

David took a deep breath and tried to call on all the things he’d learned while in piano lessons. Thank god he recognized that the first note was a D, and he could place the notes from there. When the notes started going too high on the scale, though, he had no idea what he was reading. He skimmed the rest of the music, and shook his head. 

“Yeah, I just can’t read the rest of that. I could probably look at spacing and stuff and then place my hands, but it feels unproductive. You said you could do it another way?”

“Well, hey!” Jack clapped David on his shoulder. “That was pretty good, actually! You still know some of it.”

Davey watched as Jack pulled out another book of piano music, this one much more advanced. 

“Okay,” Jack said slowly as he opened this book. “Here’s how we’re going to do it. I’ll read the music, and I’ll play like - a measure. And then you’ll copy that, and we’ll play the song measure by measure,” he flipped through the pages, scowling. “I’m just trying to find a song you’ll know.”

When he finally settled on the song, he dramatically flew it up onto the piano, spread out so that Davey could see just how complicated the song was. 

“I know it looks hard, but it’s really not,” Jack laughed at David’s frightened face. 

Jack put his hands on the keys again, and told Davey to copy where his hands were, but move them an octave down. The positioning felt strange, like riding a bike that’s slightly too small. 

“Ready?” Jack asked, and Davey nodded. Jack began to play a tune that Davey vaguely recognized. Only a few notes in, however, Jack stopped playing abruptly. 

“Okay, so now you try.”

“Oh, uh,” Davey grimaced. “I wasn’t watching. Can you do it again?”

Jack smiled and played the notes again. When Davey tried to copy him, he was much slower and couldn’t get the timing right, but at least he hit all the notes. 

“Nice!” laughed Jack. “Now watch, and let’s keep going.”

Davey lost track of how many times Jack played a measure, and then Davey repeated it. More than once, Jack went back to the beginning and had Davey play as much as he could. Those were a little rough, to put it kindly. He missed notes all the time, and had trouble finding keys. Still, he got the song down well enough to play back to where they had left off. 

Until, at least, they got to one measure. Even Jack sighed as he looked at it, and had to try it over once or twice. He played it, though, at normal speed. And then, when he realized that Davey hadn’t understood, he played it again. 

There must have just been one note that Davey couldn’t get quite right, because when he played it the first time, the second time, and every time after that, it sounded off.   
Eventually, Jack moved closer, so that his side was pressed against the side of Davey’s body. 

“Here, ready?” he asked, and placed his left hand on top of Davey’s right. “Like this.”

Jack played the keys perfectly, pressing down on Davey’s fingers as he did. When he removed his hand, Davey tried it on his own, with perfect execution. Jack smiled, but didn’t move away from Davey. 

The song finished in two measures, which they played out. 

“Can you play the whole song?” Jack asked. “Doesn’t have to be perfect.”

As David played, he could feel the heat of Jack’s body against his, and he could feel when Jack nodded in time with the music. The song ended, and it hadn’t been perfect. But Davey was so happy, that he didn’t care so much. 

“Hey, you did it!” Jack clapped his hands. “I told you that you’d be able to…”

Davey tuned Jack out as he spoke, instead choosing to turn towards the boy. This, he found, may have been a mistake. Just like when Jack had performed at the coffeehouse, Davey found himself incapable of looking away from him. And, as Jack stopped talking, still smiling in excitement, Davey couldn’t help but noticed the proximity between himself and Jack.   
Jack’s face turned towards Davey, likely feeling the heat of Davey’s stare. His eyes stayed focused on Davey’s as they sat silently, and until the very last second in which David closed the distance between them, kissing Jack softly. Neither of them pulled away; in fact, they both melted into the kiss and let time swirl around them like piano music. 

-

Davey went home that night, satisfied with more than just how well he could play the piano. Right before he went to bed, he heard his phone ding with a notification. 

Jack: hey heres a song you should try learning its one of my favorites https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCwwKd3QKGQ

David laughed, shot a text back saying goodnight, and turned off his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! this fic means a lot to me.

How anyone ever did this was beyond Davey’s understanding. At least he knew it would make for a decent article: “My First Time Performing at Open Mic Night.”

The lights were all on him. Well, not all on him. Some of the lights were pointed at Jack, who sat on a stool in the center of the stage. He held a microphone to his lips. 

“Hi, everyone. And thank you, Mush, for another fabulous introduction. It’s appreciated. You might recognize me from the last open mic night, or you might recognize me from the most recent school musical,” Jack laughed. “By the way, did you know that this year’s fall musical had record ticket sales? Yeah, give it up for that.”

Jack had effortless control over the crowd, who clapped and cheered. 

“Now, I don’t know you, and I don’t know who you know. But you may or may not recognize my boyfriend up here on piano, Davey Jacobs. Can you give it up for him, too?”

Davey’s face was bright red as the crowd roared. He could distinctly hear Crutchie yelling, from his and Davey’s regular seat in the back row. 

Jack laughed into the microphone. “Yeah, I feel the same way about him.”

The audience collectively cooed and awed at the two of them.

“Well, uh, a while ago he didn’t know how to play piano. And so we learned this song together, and it means a lot to us, I think. Enjoy!” 

And just like that, Davey’s fingers began to move over the keys, like he was programmed to do it. Suddenly, it didn’t matter how many lights glared in his face, or how hot it was onstage, or even how many people were in the audience. It was only black and white keys, a headline, and a voice that sounded like coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey fic requests are going to be open for a limited time on my tumblr @javidblue starting tomorrow so if you want a fic from me thats where you can get it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! let me know what you thought of it!


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